What Really Happened At The Dursleys
by VeelaWishes
Summary: Rita Skeeter talks to Vernon Dursley. He tells her of disturbed Harry's poor relationship with his gentle and caring family. She determines one thing. Harry must hate muggles. Because obviously Vernon's account is true. Read what Vernon has to say!


A/N-Disclaimer-Harry Potter isn't mine. This goes for my other stories too. Enjoy. X

THE DAILY PROPHET

HARRY POTTER-SECRET MUGGLE HATER

_Our favorite reporter, famed for getting to the very heart of issues and amazingly accurate articles met with this charming muggle that has known famed war hero Harry Potter since he was a baby and played a large part in his childhood. She was shocked to find that Harry was rude and abusive to this soft spoken man and his delightful family. _

The account of _Vernon Dursley _as told to Rita Skeeter

Now, let me just start off by saying that everything you've heard about us Dursleys from that insufferable little...dear, is a lie. We're the kindest, warmest and politest people you could ever hope to meet! From the day he entered our door the boy was trouble but we foolishly loved, cared for and sheltered him only to have him spew a load of untruthful drivel to his biographist J.K Rowling. We still love him of course but are most hurt. This is our story.

It was about 3 o'clock in the morning if I recall correctly.

**BANG BANG BANG** thundered someone behind our front door. My darling wife and I quickly got out of bed and stood nervously in the hall, wondering whether we should call the police. "Open, lowly muggles. Here the great Albus Dumbledore stands to impress on your most unworthy selves a most important and undeserved honour!" rasped a male voice. Petunia and I exchanged terrified glances. We knew it was one of 'their kind'. Tentatively and knowing it was futile to resist, I unlocked and opened the door.

Standing on our welcome mat was a wizened old man who must have been pushing 1000 or so. He had a deeply lined face with a superior look that made him look like he was sniffing manure and the most outrageous clothes. A purple velvet cloak smelling of mothballs, a flowery bonnet, red slippers and a blue mankini. I stared at him in shock as he swept in uninvited. He knocked over our best vase in the process. "Ah...uhem..." he coughed before announcing with an air of grandeur, "Never fear, I; the greatest wizard of my generation shall fix it before you can say Whimpering Willow!". He pointed a dirty stick at it but the only thing that happened was the remains shooting over to him, broken as ever. Allfuss Dumblydore kicked them under a chair discreetly.

He explained that Petunia's beloved sister and her brother in law had been murdered in a terrible accident and we were required to take in their son Harry, who was Dudder's age. Tears in her beautiful eyes, Petunia clasped her hands to her chest and said breathlessly, "Oh of course we'll have him, the poor little mite! Where is the angel?"

Ignoring her question, Mr Dumplingdoor continued "Well of course you'll take him. It's a privilege for magic-less folk to harbour the boy-who-lived! And I could always kill you with the 'Abra Kadabra' curse should you refuse...Or was it 'A llama Obama'? I forget. The point is you're going to look after him. Here". He reached into the butt pocket of his cloak before thrusting a baby bundled up in blankets into Pet's arms and disappearing with a loud crack. Well, most of him disappeared. He left his leg. A second later a hand with a garish ring materialised and grabbed it before vanishing.

I peered over my wife's shoulder as she unwrapped the throw slightly so we could see our nephew. And my God! He was the most hideous thing I've ever seen in my life. He had glowing green eyes that seemed, just, _demonic_ and the rest of his face was so squashed in we couldn't make out much. But for the tiniest little mark on his forehead in the shape of a twisted worm or something. But we loved him nevertheless.

He was a nightmare baby. Always crying. Poor Dudley had far less attention as we were too busy trying to soothe the wailing Harry. At night I can still hear the angry screams and choking sniffles. As a toddler he was even worse. We didn't manage to toilet train him until he was seven and he was constantly bullying our Dudley, pinching him and stealing his toys where he hid them in the filthy cupboard under the stairs that for some reason, we couldn't get him out of. We think he liked to eat the spiders. Such a picky eater. Petunia prepared elaborate feasts of all types of healthy treats but he wouldn't touch them and as such was almost skeletal.

Dudley was a merry child. He played well with other children and was the perfect gentleman to all. He received excellent results in school and helped with household chores.

Harry was well...difficult. But we persevered.

He was 10 and his shaggy black hair was down to his shoulders and sticking out in all directions. It was dirty and greasy and we couldn't let it go on for any longer.

"Harry sweetheart" trilled Petunia, tapping lightly on his door, "Time to get your haircut darling". She jumped as there came a violent roar and something hit the door. We would later find out it was a dead mouse (he so loved killing and maiming small furry animals). Harry wasn't coming out so I pushed open the door. A filthy and naked beast hissed at me viciously.

"Please calm down and let us cut your hair Harry. Perhaps you could also have a nice warm bath and some clean clothes. Then you could spend some time in your real room perhaps? It's so much cosier. This please is really starting to smell now son" I begged. The feral snarl was making me nervous. Eventually I conceded to the fact that it was pointless. I left and patted Petunia's shoulder in comfort.

Then it was his eleventh birthday. We were having it late at night. Harry hated sunlight. "92 presents?" he said incredulously as he opened the playstation. He was growing madder and madder. "That's one less than last year!"

I rushed to appease him, "But some of these presents were a lot more expensive son" I reason, "And we're going to have to get things for your trip to Disneyland too".

Just then a large man kicked our door in and declared, "I'm Hagrid eye' am and I'm ere to rescue Arry Otter, celebrity. You filthy muggles ave abused 'im for too long and he'll be goin' to Oggwarts from now on!" He smirked and pointed a pink umbrella at our cowering son who had just offered him his seat. Almost instantly a large curly tail erupted from the seat of Dudley's trousers. He yelped in pain and collapsed. Harry snickered and ran off to fetch my wallet. Our nephew and the giant bolted out of the door which was still lying flat on the floor, ripped from the hinges.

"Haaaarrryy!" cried Petunia. We spent the rest of the night worrying about our nephew and arranging emergency correctional surgery for Dudders.

We spent a lot of time fretting about him. It took a long time to contact the school and when we did they were completely unhelpful and rude because of our non-wizarding status, but we were eventually told he'd arrived safely. It relieved us immensely. We started sending him letters and presents through the owl post system but he never once acknowledged this or replied.

It saddened us greatly and many tears were cried. But in some ways things were easier. There were never any tantrums and we stopped finding dead animals. We managed to pay back some of the debt we accumulated from his birthdays and Christmases and Dudley became more outgoing-Harry was always so horrible to him.

Harry often stayed with friends in the summer holidays but sometimes came home. We never understood the hate he held from us but assumed it was due to us being Muggles. The threats he used to make were monstrous. He told us his Godfather, the muderer Sirius Black was coming to get us. Then there were the _incidents._ He blew up his Aunt Marge. He damaged our property several times and tricked us into going out of the house so he could invite people over. Harry gave Dudders an eating disorder by telling him he was obese. Nonsense-he was a strapping young lad. Strong. Healthy. He's down to 18 stone now. There's nothing left of him. In his fifth year Harry also set Dementors on him. 'For a joke' he laughed as Dudley lay on our kitchen floor, face white, lips blue and eyes empty. Our poor son still gets nightmares.

Last year Harry turned 17 and disowned us.

"So...this is it then?" said Petunia. Harry nodded coldly. We had just been told Harry was going to fight the Great Wizard Voldesnort and for our own protection we would be taken to a secure location with Ministy officials to protect us.

"Oh Harry, we'll miss you so much!" whispered Dudley. His voice broke with emotion and he reached out a hand to his cousin. Harry hit him with a burning spell.

We wanted to hug him so badly but had to content ourselves with 'Be careful's and 'We love you's. Harry yawned loudly and walked out of the door.

We think the fame might've gone to his head. We know we're not magical or rich but was it too much to expect him to want us as family?

Harry...if you're out there we just want you to know this. _We love and forgive you. It's never too late for you to come home._

_There we have it. This reporter has come to one conclusion. The only conclusion. Harry Potter hates muggles!_


End file.
